


Domestic

by VRMiller



Series: Dragon Queen [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Community: skyrimkinkmeme, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VRMiller/pseuds/VRMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asta is still coming to terms with the new changes in her life- but maybe they aren't all so bad. UlfricxF!DB, post-game, complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Domestic

**Author's Note:**

> A quick little ficlet I started last night to get my muses kicking to finish some SKM prompts. I now have myself a new pairing, and actually found a prompt to do with them as well. While this isn't exactly polished (I just wrote whatever came to mind; there was no 'plot' or planning involved), it is spell checked, and really that's all I need out of it.

 "Asta. Come inside."  
  
"Just a little while longer."  
  
"You shouldn't be out this late in your... condition."  
  
The Nordic lady took a deep breath, determined not to rise to the bait. Nothing grated her nerves as hard or fast as being treated like some gentle, exotic flower who'd shrivel at the slightest inclination. Rather, she turned and smiled at him before starting her way down the stairs.  
  
"Walk with me."  
  
"Asta." His voice was sharper, more cutting, demanding she yield to him.  
  
She wouldn't. He knew. She never listened to anything he said- why would she start now?  
  
She ignored him, continuing down the steps. Though they split their time between Windhelm and Solitude, she'd never had much time to explore. The only time she'd ever been here, in Solitude, Asta had always some goal, one way or the other. When given a purpose, she had a one track mind, and didn't allow for distractions such as exploring.  
  
Were Ulfric to have his way, Asta would currently be cooped up in a bed, sitting on her backside and stuffing her face with boiled crème treats (though those did sound delectable right about now...). Never one to stay put for long, her wandering spirit was laid slightly to rest by simply walking and exploring this new city she'd never been acquainted with. No- her days of traipsing over Skyrim wherever she felt were long over. But did she miss it?  
  
Skyrim was no longer struggling with a civil war, and the dragons were no longer a problem. The Thalmor loomed over them, heavy and oppressive as ever, even closer now that the barrier of the Empire was gone- but they would be dealt with in time. Skyrim would not fall.  
  
The sound of snow being crunched under feet was not a surprise to Asta in the slightest. In all actuality, it was what she wanted. Let him follow after her.  
  
Being placed on bed rest would be detrimental to her mental health. Her aimless wandering of the Palace was encouraged by the Court Wizard, which really only mattered when Ulfric would start arguing with her, as he often did. Lately though, even the Palace was beginning to feel too cramped; and Ulfric was grating on her nerves with his over possessive behavior. Though... well, she certainly didn't agree to it, and rarely paid attention to him when he was acting like that, in an abstract way she could understand his reasoning. Pregnancy was perilous in Skyrim on a good day, and Asta was hardly some fresh young eighteen year old girl. The fact that this was her first did not stack the odds in her favor.  
  
Just because she understood where he was coming from didn't mean she agreed with where he was coming from- that had been proven time and time again.  
  
Being domestic after a lifetime of wandering was a hell of an adjustment. Early on, the trips between Solitude and Windhelm had helped keep her restless spirit relaxed, but Ulfric was insistent they cease traveling this late in the pregnancy. There was still three months.  
  
Asta wasn't the only restless one; the little life budding inside her could never seem to hold still. There was many a sleepless night for Asta because the baby wouldn't stop kicking and wiggling and shifting.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was low; didn't want the guards to hear. Asta found that pointless- surely no one would think Asta, the Dragonborn, would roll over and crawl on her hands and knees because Husband didn't approve. While she had the presence of mind to not make a spectacle of it, the Dragon Queen rarely did something she didn't want to, even when implored by Husband and High King.  
  
"Walking."  
  
"Asta-"  
  
"Ulfric." Voice equally clipped as his was with hers. All she wanted to do was wander the city at night, to see it when it wasn't crawling with people who wanted to pester her with questions and put their hands on her belly. Oh sweet Divines, if one more person- "I just want to walk- stretch my legs out some."  
  
"If you just wanted to str-" A pointed glare cut him off the second she'd seen the innuendo coming. "Fine." For a man nearing fifty, he acted like a hormonal teenager half the time.  
  
They wandered the city streets aimlessly, Ulfric merely following Asta. As most of her attention seemed to be focused up, rather than forward, he'd had to guide his wife out of the way of obstacles a fair few times.  
  
No rational person would be stupid enough to attack the Dragon Queen. Ulfric countered that it wasn't the rational people he was worried about, his possessive behavior becoming even moreso every day as her belly continued to swell. An attempt to kill their child, their heir, even while safely tucked away in Asta's womb was a very real threat.  
  
But Asta wasn't helpless. She had the Voice, an assortment of enchanted daggers with all manner of nifty effects, and a few magick tricks up her sleeve. Her favorite melee, a Drainblood Battleaxe, would be next to impossible to wield; she wasn't used to moving efficiently with large weapons while also sporting all the extra weight in her front, so had decided to stick to smaller ones. Of course Ulfric seemed to have difficulty remember she was no longer that fragile, sheltered woman who'd had a terrible stroke of luck that he'd first met on the way to Helgen.  
  
Letting her thoughts wander, as opposed to her typical flat-out ignoring of what Ulfric was going on about, this time she genuinely didn't hear him, eyes on the stars as her hands lightly wrapped around her belly.  
  
He didn't know she was carrying twins. He was convinced the size of her meant she was carrying a large, healthy Nord boy. He'd be unbearable if he knew the truth.  
  
And truth? Her chances of surviving the birth were not good. The only thing she had in her favor was the babies would be born in late spring. Her age would not be an issue if this weren't her first birth. The fact she had wide hips would help, but likely not enough to make the difference. Twins almost always resulted in a dead mother, and it was fortunate if both babies survived. She'd always die trying to pass the second; would exhaust herself. The Shatter-Shields' birth had been a rare miracle.  
  
The healer had given some crock about how if she simply took her time during her labor, then she'd be fine.  
  
They both saw the irony; the mighty Dragon Queen, who'd been witnessed to slay two dragons back to back (the second attracted by the noise of the first), would be killed by two harmless infants not even eight pounds each.  
  
She flinched as a hand circled around her wrist, eyes snapping to the source- Ulfric. Of course. No one would be able to lay a hand on her so long as he was around to intervene.  
  
"Asta." His voice was softer this time, not having that do what I tell you tone.  
  
Turning her entire body towards him, it was obvious this was one of the rare times she might listen to what he had to say.  
  
"It's late, Asta. We've been out here for two hours. Let's retire." Now that he mentioned it, the woman was suddenly aware that, for once, she was actually tired.  
  
Nodding her assent, Asta followed as he turned back towards the Palace. She must have zoned out, as she was prone to do, as the next thing she was aware of was Ulfric releasing her wrist as they entered their room.  
  
The door was closed and Asta turned her back to Ulfric as he stepped behind her, fingers unlacing the stays on her dress. It was a new habit of theirs, as Asta was beginning to have some trouble with reaching around behind her and getting the miles of fabric from her maternity dresses off of her.  
  
There was a slight squeal when he grabbed her, followed by a feminine laugh. Ulfric was gone before she could smack him, safely out of striking distance. She'd listened at many of the little political parties of pregnant noble women's stories. Some, the arranged matches, grateful they'd soon have an heir to dump in their husband's laps so he'd keep his hands off her, and others who worried that their husband's affections were waning and she was being reduced to little more than some broodmare for when he felt like having another legitimate child. Asta and Ulfric were not be passionate little bunnies anymore, but he made it very clear that he still only had eyes for his wife.  
  
One thing that had surprised while simultaneously pissed her off beyond belief (as she'd never been the over reacting, paranoid type when it came to men), was that after the news of Skyrim's future heir, had been the amount of women assuming Ulfric would be looking for a mistress while his wife was 'out of commission'. Which actually, her being pregnant hadn't changed their private life all that much. Asta had just as soon gotten over her ridiculous irritation when it was obvious Ulfric intended on spending every night with her, rather than some hopeful social climber.  
  
Putting the dress away, she slipped into her nightshift before brushing and braiding her hair while Ulfric changed out of his armor.  
  
The bed felt absolutely wonderful when she finally crawled in, Ulfric beside her. Turning on her side, Asta shifted slightly so she was pressed against her husband, both adjusting as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand resting against her belly. Exhausted, the woman was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open, or pay attention to the soft words being whispered in her ears.  
  
This room, this bed was their safe haven. He wasn't High King, she wasn't his Dragon Queen; the country wasn't looking to them for guidance on how best to piece herself back together in the aftermath of the dragons and the war. There were no fetch quests and people trying to manipulate and play them for an ulterior motive. They didn't have the weight of a fractured country on their shoulders.  
  
All their problems would still be there in the morning, but for tonight, they simply were.  
  
Maybe being domestic wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
